


Childhood

by HandMonsters



Series: Lifetime [1]
Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Blood and Violence, Childhood Sweethearts, Death, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loneliness, Long, STEM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-04 06:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15835737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandMonsters/pseuds/HandMonsters
Summary: You'd never forget her smile. Her younger brother's pale face dusted a light pink. You knew your life was far from perfect - but you would have never have guessed what the future had in store the day you met them.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILER WARNING: this series covers material predominantly from the first game however, there are also "things" revealed in the second game. It is recommended you play both before reading, unless you are happy with spoilers.
> 
> You have been warned.

“Hate…the man’s consumed by it. He hates the world for what it is had done to him and he won’t stop until he gets revenge. He thinks he can take back everything that has been snatched away from him. Rebuild the world in his image. But this machine-his machine, is built on hate…it corrupts everything it touches…nobody is safe in here…not even you.”

You’d never forget the first time you met them; a young girl with the brightest of smiles, beckoning you to come play and her brother, a sudden bashfulness challenging the confidence he carried himself with. It hadn’t been for long, but those precious minutes you spent with them meant the world to you before you were dragged back to the harshness of reality. Little did you know those minutes would change to hours…and those hours would change your life.


	2. Chapter 2

Taking through the undergrowth like a deer you moved silently, approaching the opening with wary eyes; you could see the crimson fabric of her dress from behind the tree-it was perfect. Slowing, you crept towards the tree, fingertips grazing the bark as you grinned uncontrollably. Blood pounding in your ears you held your breath as to not make a sound and-

“RAH!” You yelled, leaping out from behind the tree, two screams following simultaneously. Laura had leapt a good foot away from the tree whilst her brother had dragged himself across the grass-bracing himself for whatever he thought was to come. You laughed and laughed: tears forming in your eyes as you held your sides. Laura cracking up too, her brother rolled over with a look of annoyance in his eyes.

“That wasn’t funny!” He protested, his sister helping him up.

“Ohhoho-no it was-you should have seen yourselves!” You cried in response. As the laughter died down, Laura’s beaming smile thinned to something more malicious against her innocent features.

“Do you want to see something funny?” She asked her brother, who was busily dusting himself down. It didn’t take him long to respond, nodding happily at his sister. “Alright then!” She exclaimed, hands knitted together behind her back as she stepped towards you with a skip in her step-panic setting in as you realized what was going to happen. But it was too late: she opened her arms, capturing you in a hug and relentlessly tickling your sides-still aching as you fell into another fit of laughter. 

“Stop! Please-Laura, I’m sorry!” You cried, the sound of her laughter telling you she wasn’t going to give in, her brother giggling to himself. You shot him sorrowful look, reaching out to him.

“Please-help me, I’m sorry for scaring you!” You begged but he shook his head.

“No. You brought it on yourself.” He chuckled merrily. You tried again but he shook his head, stepping back as he laughed. Doing the only thing you could to save yourself you hunched over, collapsing to the ground and bringing Laura with you and grabbing him. Sprawled in the grass all three of you laughed. It was like this until a sudden ray of sun caught the trees, the clearing turning an emerald green. Silent, you stared up at the sky, watching a cloud pass by when there was a sharp intake of breath beside you, Laura sitting up without a moment’s hesitation.

“I forgot to ask-would you like to come to our house some time (Y/N)?” She chirped, offering you a warm smile, but her brother answered for you.

“Laura-you know our parents don’t like her!” He barked, silence falling again as the words sunk in. Your gaze returned to the sky, but you weren’t looking at the clouds…it was true…their parents didn’t like you. They looked down on you, like some sort of pest that lured away their children-a bad influence. Your father said that upper class swine such as themselves would never appreciate your kind…except…they did, you thought with a smile as your friends bickered childishly among themselves.

“Well if she can’t come to our house then maybe we could all meet in the barn-it’s big enough and nobody goes there since we own it.” Laura suggested, her brother scowling.

“Fine-but if our parents catch us then it was your idea.” He scoffed, turning to you. “Do you reckon you could sneak out this Wednesday?” You nod confidently and he seemed to perk up, Laura clapping her hands together in joy.

“Then it’s settled-this Wednesday it is-oh…you’ll be wanting some directions won’t you (Y/N). I’ll tell you on the way back, it’s probably best we get going for now. Mother and father will be leaving Church soon and I’m sure you’ll want to be back at your stand.” She chirped, turning tail and stepping through the undergrowth, beckoning the pair of you happily. Her brother had followed suit, hesitating and turning back to look at you as you failed to move. 

“Come on. You don’t want to be left behind do you?” He asked, eyebrow raised. You felt your cheeks flush, shaking your head violently as you scampered to his side, leaving the clearing behind. 

That night you sat in your room, amidst the artwork and blankets, the sole window opened wide to the night sky. A gentle breeze blew in, rustling the curtains as you gazed at the stars. Wednesday you thought, contained excitement ready to burst free. Flopping back onto the pillows you repeated it in your head: Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday-Wednesday you could see them again…

You couldn’t wait.

But life is cruel. 

Clutching the article in your hands you found yourself unable to work, paintbrush by your side as you stared at the blank canvas, the tears having stained your cheeks-long past crying but empty inside. The sky that night was different. A thick smoke choking the beautiful sky as the orange rays of the setting sun cast a fiery spell across the sky-as if it was still burning…and you realized your father was right…as their parents walked past they managed to look at you, but it was vacant, ice cold…like you were nothing-like it was your fault. And it felt like it was, the longer you dwelled on it. You hadn’t been able to sneak out…and they had gone to the barn…and played and played until…it was burnt to the ground.

Maybe if you had gone there things would have been different…or maybe you would have burnt too? Either way-it was better than living without them, the only joy in your life stolen away…stolen, you thought, forcing yourself to take a paintbrush, but not lost.


	3. Chapter 3

You spent the day at the market. Sat by your stall. Tending to your paintings. This was the usual routine. It was surprising how well the paintings sold given your poor equipment; most paints were home made out of coloured pigment (or whatever you could get your hands on) and often the canvases were just simple pieces of cloth tied over wood but you had talent. Apparently it came from your mother-your brushes formerly hers. But it provided you with money: money you needed for food and occasionally clothes when you weren’t paying for better supplies. Having recently substituted food for a high quality canvas you counted the money at the end of a particularly long day-grateful that you’d be able to bring home something extra without losing out at meal time. Packing together everything you made sure your stall was empty, rucksack slung over your shoulder. Three days had passed since the article was released. It was a Saturday and it would be Church tomorrow. Your father would come through here to attend the service. And so would they. 

Laura’s parents. 

But you intended to see them before their weekly procession past your stall. Without looking back you left your stall, taking to the crowded market street and rounding the statue, passing the guardian angel a bitter look as you dodged the passer-by’s. Pushed against the fence you strained to see through the mass of people before you, halting to see where you were. Spying the stall you grinned, pushing your way to the table where you were greeted by a frail old woman, her bright eyes and warm smile suggesting she wasn’t from around the area. She seemed too alive. Nevertheless, you rummaged in your pocket, taking out the spare change and passing it to her, enthusiastically pointing towards your chosen flower. Amused, the lady carefully wrapped the single flower, allowing you to go on your way.

Dashing down the dusty path you finally made it home, passing through the gate and inside before you were noticed. Flower to hand you made it to your room. Rucksack laid down you took the flower and hid it with the canvas under your blankets. There was something you had to do first. Warily returning downstairs you turned the handle on the closed door, pushing it open into the kitchen.

“Hello father.” You chirped anxiously. He was sat at the table with his tea, eyes skimming his newspaper lazily.

“What is it?” He grunted, eyes remaining fixed on the paper.

“Is there anything you need me to do?” 

“You’re asking now? We’ve had no food in the house all day and you’re only asking now?” Fear began to creep up on you as he stopped what he was doing. “Why didn’t you check the cupboards before you left this morning? Then you would have known, in the morning, that I needed you to get food, but it’s too late now isn’t it.” You listened silently, unsure when to speak.

“You know what I can’t be assed to deal with your crap now, so go do whatever you’re doing, just do some shopping tomorrow.” A wave of relief washed over you as he waved his fork dismissively, but you weren’t free yet.

“Okay…I’m sorry.” You replied sheepishly. He rolled his eyes, already back to his paper as he shoveled another mouthful of food into his gob. Leaving the room, you closed the door behind you. Escaping to the safety of your room you went straight into action. Peeling back the doors of the wardrobe you pulled out a neat blue dress, a white ribbon around the waist. It was the nicest thing you owned, even with the occasional stain here and there…a few moth eaten holes adorning the shoulders. Slipping into the dress you ran the brush through your hair and lift the blankets off the canvas-a beautiful painting of some sunflowers in a vase. And then your bouquet in the making. You were going to add wildflowers on the way there to flesh out the one flower display. Taking the items your eyes caught the article, pinned on the wall with your doodles: 

“ESTATE FIRE CLAIMS CHILDREN: Daughter badly wounded. Where were parents?” 

The headline made you stop, as it did every time, the words piercing your heart like a knife. You knew they were injured but you hoped they weren’t as bad as the article claimed…still; there was only one way to find out. Tiptoeing downstairs you were ready to destroy the evidence, portrait kept behind your back as you passed the kitchen. It was a game of roulette leaving the house any day, but if he knew where you were going he wouldn’t be happy. It seemed you didn’t have to worry though, some God blessing you, leading you out unscathed and back on the path. Free to do as you pleased. Keeping to a brisk walk you only slowed once you were sufficiently far from your house, situated the perfect distance from where you wanted to go. Living on the outskirts of Cedar Hill Church it was a thirty minute walk to work, and a thirty minute walk to the Victoriano Estate, the directions still fresh in your mind. Passing through the trees you followed the back roads, avoiding the winding main road to save time, picking the perfect flowers along the way and adding them to the ever growing bouquet until it was completed. Your journey coming to an end: a pale wall blocking your way-two towers just visible over the top. It was…amazing-your eyes transfixed on what little you could see as you stumbled through the forest. Coming to the end of the forested area you hesitated, carefully stepping down the rocky slope and onto the path. 

Stopping in your tracks.

Up close it was huge, an ornate metal gate standing above you as the light of the two lanterns illuminating the scene barely reached your tiny frame. Inside…you could see it, the mansion-it was so big…bigger than that-ginormous. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Pulling yourself together you closed your limp jaw, swallowing hard as you clutched your gifts tight.  
You…you were nothing compared to them, you thought, anxiety washing over you, they didn’t even like you-but it was no time to lose your head over that...you’d do what you came to do…then go home. Resting your shoulder against the cool metal you pushed, grunting as the heavy weight shift slowly, an elongated screech coming from the hinges as you disturbed them. Once inside you repeat the process, then, stood in awe once again. The courtyard was even bigger once you were inside, a path leading you to the center, where an ivy draped fountain stood, benches around the outskirts of the ring like an audience.  
The garden: beautiful, trees and flowers flourishing at their prime. And the house…oh the house…timidly your made your way towards the grand home you struggled to hold your head up. It was like a castle! No end to the windows that climbed the walls, each pane of glass a gem in the moonlight. Everything so white and pristine…so welcoming and yet so intimidating. 

Laura must have felt like a princess you thought weakly, a twinge of sadness capturing your heart. Climbing the steps you came to the door, awe disrupted by sadness as you examined the detail on the oak, carvings and ivory handles…there was no end to the display of wealth. You felt so out of place…a foreigner to the world inside the walls. Placing the canvas between your legs you clenched a fist, knocking on the door. It wasn’t very loud and you wondered if anybody had heard but soon the door swung open and you were faced with a young women you’d never seen before. She almost hesitated before speaking, taking one look at you before asking:

“Can I help you?” Her tone mocking. You felt your confidence waver.

“Um…yes…I was hoping to see Mrs. Victoriano…is she in?”

“She’s currently in mourning and won’t be seeing any visitors. Would you like me to pass something on?” Although it was understandable she would be in mourning you felt a bit upset at being dismissed so quickly-but what did you expect?  
“Yes please...just…these please-”

“Who is it?” A gentle voice called from afar, the lady turning to look inside.

“It’s a young girl ma’am. She said she was here to see you but I told her you weren’t receiving at the minute.” You couldn’t see the newcomer, not attempting to peek around in case it seemed…nosy…

“Well,” the voice soothed, “I’m perfectly sure I am capable of seeing someone, a girl you-” she stood by the other woman, blue eyes wide if only for a second.

“Are you sure ma’am?” The lady asked, Mrs. Victoriano’s gaze fixated on you. She nod slowly, then confidently, turning to her assistant and thanking her. Dismissed, the other lady left, leaving you alone. The mother stood, ringing her hands as if she was nervous, opening her mouth but no sound came out. Taking the initiative you spoke first:

“I’m sorry to bother you Mrs. Victoriano but I heard what happened and I wanted to give you these…” you held out the flowers, suddenly aware of how…basic, they were, “I know they don’t look like much but the harebell is meant to represent grief, the chamomile energy in hard times and the sunflower…adoration…and it was Laura’s favourite! I thought you might like them and I-I also made you this!” You handed over the painting, the shocked mother taking it in her frail hands. 

“I painted it myself...” you trailed off as she looked at the painting, flowers in her hands. Embarrassed and upset you played with your dress, averting your eyes. 

“Thank you…” she breathed, “it’s nice you put so much thought into the flowers rather than just buying a huge bouquet and the painting…it’s wonderful. Thank you.” Managing a weak smile you met her eyes, taken aback as she smiled at you-her smile so similar to Laura’s, the same plain beauty shared between the mother and daughter. 

“Sorry for bothering you Mrs. Victoriano, I um…I hope your children are okay and…I’ll be going now.” You bowed politely, about to leave when-

“Wait!” The sudden outburst from the mother startled you, and you turned to face the mother as she stood in the doorway, a solemn look on her face, “Would it be possible for you to stay for a while, if you have nowhere to be that is?” Unsure what to do you told her you weren’t busy, mixed emotions welling up inside.

“Perfect, do come inside, I’ll get you some tea, you like tea don’t you dear?” You nod, bashfully taking your first steps into the house, marveling at the spiral staircases either side of the hallway, a chandelier hung gracefully from the ceiling as every inch of the room echoed one word only: exquisiteness. It was like something you’d read in a fairy tale. Mrs. Victoriano closed the door behind you, clearing her throat.

“You’ll have to forgive me dear, but…I can’t quite remember your name. You’re the girl from the market, a tremendous artist, she used to talk about you all the time but…your name escapes me.” You turned your attention back to her, the very thought she used to know your name up-lifting.

“(Y/N) (Y/LN).” You replied, the mother smiling as if it brought back some memory you didn’t share. Pointing towards the staircase to your left she made her way towards the stairs.

“Thank you (Y/N), please, do call me Beatriz, I hate to think you feel you have to call me by my last name. If you go through the second door, make yourself at home, I’m going to put these somewhere safe and then I will join you.” With that she was gone, leaving you in the hall. You were still dazed from the grandeur of the place, the…anxiety you had felt wilting. Beatriz seemed nice…not at all what you’d expected. The fact that she had known your name, even if she had forgotten it-the fact that Laura spoke about you…heading to the room Beatriz had mentioned you took a seat at the dinner table, hands placed firmly on your knees as you looked around. You felt so out of place…but at least you were welcome. And…they were here, you thought, thinking of your friends. You were here with them.

And that was all that counted.


	4. Chapter 4

Taking a sip of her tea, Beatriz listened intently:

“My father says I get it off mum but I’ve never seen any of her artwork. But ever since I started selling I haven’t stopped. It helps to pay for all our needs so I’m happy to do it.” You purred, uncomfortable on the subject of family.  
“Why don’t you ask your mother to draw for you then?” Beatriz asked curiously, making you stumble for words.

“She isn’t around anymore…she left when I was only a baby and nobody knows where she went.” Beatriz paused, putting down her cup.

“I’m sorry to hear that…” she soothed, “but it’s nice to know that you support your father. Cedar Hill is poor enough; at least you can make money doing something you enjoy.” It was true, you enjoyed art. But you didn’t make very much.  
“If you don’t mind me saying, you should try selling your talent to individuals, I know I would hire you to do a portrait.” She added, the idea actually quite good. Working out how much you might earn and weighing up the pro’s and con’s in your head, Beatriz sat back with a sigh.

“Gosh, so much responsibility at your age though…you should be out playing with your friends…” she trailed off, a dark shadow crossing her face as you took a sip of your tea, trying not to gulp it down desperately. You didn’t say anything, you felt like you shouldn’t…waiting patiently, you played with your fingers beneath the table until Beatriz finally spoke.

“I’m sorry (Y/N).” She said simply.

“What for?” You replied, the mother raising an eyebrow at you.

“Oh don’t be like that…we both know what. I never let you see my children because I thought you were a bad influence, Ernesto and I both did…you would sneak off to see them during Church-it was infuriating but…you’re just children. I know my Laura would have influenced all of you at some point as well. She has a heart of gold bless her, often misplaced, but she loves her brother and she loves you. It was wrong of me to look down on you the way I did, hearing just how honest and hardworking you are now, I would have gladly let you see my children but…I suppose it’s too late now.” You’d sat quietly, accepting the apology with all your being but…what did she mean it was too late?

“You see, even I haven’t seen my darling babies since the…accident…” she chirped with a pained smile, making your heart sink, “Ernesto says he’s taking care of them, but he won’t let me see them. So I’m afraid you won’t be able to either-I know you probably hoped to do that coming all this way…I’m sorry…” Her eyes were welled, tears threatening her. You couldn’t help but feel terrible, unsure what to do as you watched the childless mother pull herself together.

“Don’t apologize Beatriz…I’m sorry for being such a bad influence…” maybe if I hadn’t met them this would have never happened, “but I’m sure they’re okay,” it’s strange that Ernesto won’t let you see them, it feels wrong, “Ernesto probably doesn’t want them to see you upset, if they’re recovering then maybe it’s best that they have one person there for them-someone strong, I’m not saying that you aren’t, but you’re upset. Even if you were to smile around them they would be able to tell. Ernesto loves his children too, I’m sure, and he wants what’s best for them.” Beatriz gave you a warm smile, resting her hand on the top of her teacup.

“I suppose you’re right dear, thank you for trying to cheer me up…you know, your visit really is a gift from God.” She purred. You smiled politely, finishing off your tea, the idea of God circulating through your head. Beatriz went to Church. You’d never gone to Church yourself although your father did. You never asked, and you were generally too busy at your stall to have the time. Laura seemed religious, even if her brother hated it, but…it seemed only right that in your situation, even if you hadn’t been to Church. You’d try-try to talk to any God that would listen.

“I’ll pray for their fast recovery. I promise.” You reassured Beatriz, reaching across the table and resting your hand on top of hers. She seemed lost for words until she gave up, smiling at you, blue eyes saying all they needed to…  
And that night you fulfilled your promise. Once again positioned at your window you knelt, hands pressed together as you held your eyes shut, using every last ounce of willpower in your body to bring about a miracle. Whispering words under your breath you finished your prayer, gazing to the heavens with a heavy heart. You’d do anything…just make sure they were all right…


	5. Chapter 5

It was Sunday. Everybody went to Church. From you stall you’d seen the pair of them, Ernesto and Beatriz: who’d offered a wave and a smile, her husband a respectable nod. Despite your differences they didn’t look down on you as father had told you they would-or at least, not for the reasons he said. You’d both been mistaken about each other, that was all. It was midday and you wanted to get the shopping done, finishing work early. Packing together everything you made sure your stall was empty, rucksack slung over your shoulder. The usual routine; except you stayed in the market longer. Visiting the butches, vegetable stands you gathered all you nutritional necessities, and of course the beer. You couldn’t forget the beer. Adjusting the bags under your arms you peered over the top of the stack, making your way home. Once there you placed the bags in the kitchen, your own in your room, then went about unpacking downstairs, nothing out of the ordinary. Not in reality at least, your mind wandering back to your visit to the Victoriano Estate. Beatriz had told you, you could visit whenever you liked, she asked you to come back. But you didn’t know if the day after was too soon…it would seem…odd if you went out two days in a row anyway. Suspicious. It was best to play it safe. You would have liked to see her more often though-scrunching up the bags you took them outside, putting them in the bin. A calm breeze brushed your cheeks, an idea planted in your head…that was it…there was only one problem…  
You had tea ready when he got home: roast lamb and a carrot soup, bread to serve…he seemed quite content. Sat at the table in silence you ate your food, dipping the bread into the soup as you ran over the conversation in your head. It was quiet, eerily so, something that would make a guest uncomfortable, but not you. You were waiting, for that one question.

“How much did you earn today?” He asked, putting aside his empty plate.

“One hundred with what’s left after buying food.” You told him. One hundred was a lot. But Sunday was always busy. He sighed, leaning back.

“One hundred…” He repeated to himself, “I love Sundays.” You gripped your dress beneath the table, deciding it was now or never, your chest ready to explode with nerves.

“I thought of a good way to get more money.” You exclaimed, louder than you’d expected-his eyes fixating on your weak frame, a shiver running down your spine.

“Oh?” He scoffed, “You thought? I’m impressed, but go on, let’s hear what you have to say.” You were scared. Terrified even, but you held it down.

“Well…instead of working in the market alone I could sell my talent. If I got the word out maybe people could hire me to do their portraits, or whatever they liked. I ought to be able to ask for a bit more then and it opens up the business outside of the market.” He laughed, snorting as he did. As stiff as a nail you sat waiting for him to reply.

“You sound like a whore-selling your talent-oh god,” he chuckled, “it’s hilarious, but if it brings in more money that’s fine, you’ll have to walk wherever you go so it gets you out of my sight at least. Sure why not.” There was hope, but you knew he wasn’t stupid, he would know. 

“But what’s in it for you, I doubt you’d want to work more unless you got something out of it, and it isn’t money…” he trailed off, a dangerous look in his eye that made you freeze up, “well,” he spat, “out with it.” This was it.

“I want to go to Church on Sunday.”

Silence. 

You could feel the cold sweat, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. He remained still, looking at you wide eyed. It could have been comical. You could have just laughed it off, but you felt you’d gone too far. He blinked idly, furrowing his brow and leaning forwards.

“What?”   
“I want to go to Church on Sunday…” you weren’t as brave this time as he stood-a loud crash startling you as his chair hit the ground.

“You-go to Church?” He said, as if making sure he’d heard you right. 

“Ha! Really? You, want to go to Church? Now that’s a good joke! As if you could go to Church!” The words hit you like a knife to the heart, your eyes cast downwards as you braced yourself.

“You couldn’t go to Church! Church is for honest, working men-it separates me from you-the holy, from the sinners! No God wants to hear a whining bitch like you complain about trivial things-no God would want to take in some pathetic little coward like you! You’re the daughter of a whore-an unholy maiden who slept with the devil and you as if you, the spawn of her womb, can go to Church!” Your chest shuddered as you breathed, tears welling in your eyes as he approached you. Leant over you he rest a hand against the table, the other on the back of your chair as he stared you down. 

“Go ahead, ask me if you can go to Church again…” you shook your head and he snorted dismissively, “you don’t deserve to go to Church.” He said standing as you stared at the table, tears rolling down your cheeks as you stifled a sob.

“But you can work for clients like the whore you are. You can stay in the market on Sundays though. Sunday’s are good.” He concluded with a sigh, strolling out of the kitchen and slamming the door behind him. Staring at you food you felt the tears roll, unable to stop them as you collapsed onto the table, sides shaking furiously as you cried. It wasn’t long before the front door went as well, leaving you all alone…

It wasn’t long before you realized though…deep down inside, as much as you hated to admit it…as much as you wished it wasn’t true…he was right. No God wanted to listen to you complain about trivial things…no God would listen to you. Laura’s death hit you hard...announced only a few days after you saw Beatriz…and then…her brother. 

~

Staring at the poster your heart sank into a void. All emotions cancelled out as you stared at the poster. And stared and stared. You hadn’t heard your father shouting, a hand around your wrist as he tried to wrench you from the spot-the realisation sinking in all at once. Crying out you escaped his grasp, ripping the poster from the tree as you screamed. But no God was going to help you. Your prayers meant nothing. Just empty words to reassure a mother that had lost everything. False hope you’d given yourself that maybe, just maybe, the last thing you held dear on earth might not have slipped through your fingers. And there he was, in your hands as a poster-the last time you’d see him and you’d never even gotten to say goodbye. Your body registered pain on your face and you were silenced…the poster by your side as you were forced to move on. Dry tears staining your cheeks as you felt your very soul slipping out of your body, everything left behind on a lonely path…nowhere to escape to…nobody to talk to…  
As the years passed you became distant, rarely visiting Beatriz, unable to see her any longer. Broken and desperate she accused her husband of hiding her son, saying she could hear his voice from the basement. You were caught in the middle, Ernesto accusing you of leading Beatriz on…even if you hadn’t said anything…and so you waved to her on a Sunday, Ernesto’s cold eyes reminding you what he’d do if you dared set foot on his property again. You worked tirelessly, frequently travelling long distances just to earn enough to pay the rent. After all, you were an adult now.   
Eighteen meant you had to pay bills, work to keep a roof over your head.  
And your fathers.

But you kept going: because when the day was done you’d sit in your room, surrounded by your blankets and pillows, no longer looking for a star to wish on, but your wall. Drawings surrounding two pictures. Your only friends immortalized on paper. Smiling…and you thought, surely, there was some reason to live?

Surely…


	6. Chapter 6

Holding the paper out in front of you, you carried on down the path. Elk River Village…the walk might have been charming, the sun peering through the trees, the cool breeze. But the blisters on your feet prevented that, forcing you to adopt a limp. Your client was Valerio Jimenez. He ran a Hospice in the Village. Offered a large sum for your troubles. The only relief you found though was finding the damn village. Even then…without an address it was difficult to know where you were going. Strolling aimlessly through the village you were greeted by strange faces as you admired the many houses that lined the streets, coming to a halt at a watchtower. Frowning, you looked left and right. What even was a Hospice you thought, bitter and amused all at the same time, and where the hell was it? There was only one way to find out you decided, folding the paper and slotting it back into the pocket of your rucksack. 

“Excuse me!” You exclaimed, waving at a villager. Stopping in his tracks he turned to greet you as you trot over to him. 

“Hello there Missy, what can I do for you on this fine day?” He asked cheerfully.

“I was wondering if you know where the Hospice is?” He smiled, raising an eyebrow at you.

“You look perfectly fine to me but it’s just through those gates,” he motioned towards a large wooden gate at the end of the street, “it’s huge, you can’t miss it, biggest building here.” He explained. You were certain you could miss it, but you thanked the man anyway, apologizing for wasting his time. Shaking off your apology he smiled.

“Don’t mention it girl, now you take care of yourself, it’s too dangerous around here for you to be getting lost like that.” Startled by the sudden comment you opened your mouth to question him but he was already on his way. 

“Okay…” you breathed, confused and alarmed. Nevertheless, you had your directions and that’s what counted. Approaching the evil looking gate you passed under it, gazing at the jagged, teeth like edges that could crush you in an instant is the chains holding it up gave way. Splat…continuing through your eyes fell upon a large building, incredibly lavish in comparison to the rest of the village’s houses, but not the biggest house you’d ever seen. It wasn’t a house though, you corrected yourself, it was a Hospice. There was a difference. Reaching the front door you knocked hard against the strong wood, waiting patiently. And…

“Hello! Oh my, what do we have here?” A rather portly man bellowed as he opened the door, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose. “You must be the artist I hired, here in the flesh!” He had a friendly face and was clearly full of life.  
“That’s me.” You chirped, matching his smile, and shaking his hand.

“Well it’s wonderful to meet you, the names Valerio Jimenez. (Y/N) (Y/LN) am I correct?” You nod. “Excellent! Do come in, please, I’ll take you to your studio right away.” With that you were off, led inside and ushered upstairs into a small studio, dimly lit by a single lantern, a desk and a cupboard the only items present. Everything seemed dim, but it would make for interesting lighting. Dropping the rucksack by your side you unbuttoned the top, removing the pieces of easel and getting to work immediately.

“I’ll need some time to set up so you’re free to get yourself ready in that time.” You explained, Valerio clapping his hands together.

“Of course, I have some work that needs attending to downstairs, it’s straight down the hall once you’re done, but take all the time you need.” 

“Thank you.” You replied, feeling like you should be the one saying that as he exit the room. Nosing around from your half built easel you spied the jars on the cupboards, climbing the walls on shelves. Each contained a strange liquid and some sort of fleshy object you couldn’t identify. Shaking off your curiosity you finished readying yourself, getting out everything you needed and laying it carefully on the desk. All you needed to do was collect Valerio. Taking to the stairs you skimmed your hand along the bannister, spinning around the base and into the hallway. Strolling towards the open room as instructed you entered to see beds, six exactly you noted, glancing this way and that for Valerio. 

“Hello?” You called, seeing only a curtain and another doorway. About to go through the latter a voice came from behind the curtain.

“In here!” Valerio called-startling you…you’d honestly thought it had concealed a window…you stood corrected. Proceeding as normal you pressed a hand inside the curtain, peeling back the fabric. 

“I’m-” you were cut off by your own scream, stumbling backwards as Valerio went to catch you. A hand on your shoulder the man began laughing heartily. You were the exact opposite of amused though, chest heaving as you stared at the body, stone cold and pale, vomit choking you as the smell reached your nose. 

“Is he…” 

“Dead yes, oh you should have seen your face. Unfortunately James here died in his sleep, naturally I assure you. He was very sick. I was just finishing up his autopsy so I can send him off to the crematorium as soon as possible, and get the report to my brother before I get another angry letter.” He chuckled, “You’re ready for me now I hope…come on, let’s get going.” 

It took some time for the effects of seeing a corpse right before your eyes to wear off, the scent still nauseating. At least your hands were steady. Eyes moving between the portrait and Valerio you engaged in conversation. He looked after patients suffering from mental illness, speaking highly of his brother Marcelo who had shared care over one of his patients. He spoke about James and asked about your work, whether you had any siblings or rocked it as an only child. He was funny, finding himself stuck between strict professionalism on each and every topic he broached, but also the amazing ability to digress on just about everything too. One topic in particular caught your attention.

“It’s a pity the police haven’t been able to catch the killer yet, four people he’s killed. Four. And what have they done, nothing. It’s a small community, you’d think it would be easy to find one murderer amongst twenty or so people. I suppose they don’t have the proof.”

“There’s a murderer on the loose here?” You inquired, Valerio nodding.

“There is indeed. Mutilated his victims, gory stuff.” You grimaced; having stopped reading the news a long time ago you hadn’t heard anything about a killer…so close to home as well.

“You don’t think I’m the killer do you because I’ve got a body downstairs?” Valerio piped up suddenly, a concerned look in his eye as you snapped out of your thoughts.

“No-no, not at all…I’m shocked that’s all. It’s scary to think that I could have passed them on the way here.” You reassured, thinking back to the man you asked for directions. He made sense when you knew what was happening. Valerio let out a sigh, shaking his head.

“It’s truly terrible; I just hope they catch him soon.” He grumbled as you agreed with him, telling him to keep still in the process. It wasn’t long by your standards before you were done. Showing Valerio he hastily showed you the money, congratulating you on a job well done. Packed up and ready to go he showed you to the door.

“Any more clients today?” He asked as you stepped out the house.

“No,” you chirped, “it’s home with me.” 

“Ah well, make sure you get home safely. It’d be a tragedy to see a young face such as yourself in the papers.” You smiled weakly at him.  
“Don’t worry about me, it’s you that should be worried, your patients need you.” You pointed out, Valerio waving off your remark.

“You’re far too modest (Y/N),” he exclaimed, “farewell!”

“Bye.” He closed the door, leaving you in hostile territory. Clutching the straps of your rucksack you stayed on high alert, trying to avoid the eyes of passer-by’s whilst looking for anyone suspicious. Still, knowing a murderer was on the loose almost gave you hope. Hopefully your father would go missing…unlikely, you thought. You could only dream as you head home, the day still young. 

But that was okay. 

You’d checked the cupboards before you left, knowing you had to go shopping the second you made it back. Usually you went Sunday before the doors of the Church spewed forth all the sinners back into the street but…you wanted to stay out of trouble. Making a hissing sound between your teeth you stopped walking, gazing to the horizon. Your feet hurt…sighing, you forced yourself to continue. It would be over faster if you stopped complaining and got on with you. Something like that. And it was, eventually you’d just taken off your battered shoes, removing the problem all together, although your feet were sore by the time you made it to the market. Doing the shopping run you harvested bags of food, balancing them precariously in your arms. Once you were done you staggered back through the empty street, passing stand after stand when something caught your eye. It was the flower lady. Not as young as she used to be her eyes were dull, almost lifeless but her smile was still warm. It was the market, the Church…you knew it had sapped the life out of her, just like everyone else in the godforsaken place but she smiled and you admired that.

“Hello dear,” she soothed, “what can I get you?” You felt a bit bad for being such a bad customer, but:

“Are you done with that paper? Sorry for being so rude but I’ll happily buy it off you if you are, or come back for it tomorrow if you’re not.” You asked, placing a bag down and reaching for your money but she refused to take it. 

“You can have it for free, nothing but death and sadness…you shouldn’t have to pay for that.” She said simply, placing it inside the bag you put down and handing it to you.

“Thank you,” you soothed, “maybe you should write your own good-news paper.” You added with a shrug, but the lady laughed.

“Nothing good happens around here dear, but the thought was nice.” She sighed. She was brutally honest. Scandals and rumors hung about Cedar Hill like the plague and the news loved it. At least you would remember her little act of kindness. Giving you the energy to make it home before reality decided to join you. Food unpacked, you took the paper upstairs and plonked it down with your rucksack, intending to go out again later to paint the lighthouse across the sea. You could see it already, the city in the distance, the ocean glistening in the moonlight. The lighthouse’s penetrating light beckoning you towards it…you smiled to yourself, but you knew that was later…tea was still waiting to be made.


	7. Chapter 7

Sat at the table you waited patiently for him to finish. You’d made roughly three hundred today thanks to Valerio’s hefty contribution and your father was happy. You wanted it to remain that way. Many things had changed as you got older, even him. But not for the better, but then again, had anything gotten better. You’d gotten better at holding your tongue and behaving like the good little bitch you were meant to be if that counted. Pushing aside his plate he took an interest in you.

“Where are you going tonight?” He asked. You replied cautiously.

“The cliff to paint the lighthouse.” 

“A lighthouse huh?”

“Yes.” The silence returned for a few minutes as he stared you down from his seat before he got up.

“Do me a favor and jump whilst you’re there.” He said, passing you as you got up. Taking the bowls to the sink you did as you were told. Jump…you thought, fingers skimming the edge of a knife.   
Wouldn’t that be nice…dishes done you retreated upstairs to your room, opening the door and crouching beside your bag. You were going to head out straight away, make the most of your time, find the perfect spot you mused. Swinging the bag over your shoulder you hesitated, seeing the newspaper. Curiosity getting the better of you, your fingers grazed the smooth surface of the paper. Picking it up you unfolded it once. Skimmed the front cover.

Dropped it.

And ran.

There was no rational thought behind your actions as you threw aside your bag, throwing open the door to your room. There was no thought about the consequences as you ran down the stairs, staggering as you came to a halt at the bottom, pulling on your shoes as fast as you could. There was no way it could have been true. But you had to see for yourself. It was the first time you’d felt so alive-the words etched in your mind, there every time you blinked:

CAR ACCIDENT; TWO DEAD

The news loved tragedy. It was soul destroying at times, like finding out your only friends had been caught in a fire.

WEALTHY LAND OWNER AND WIFE DIE IN CAR CRASH

You passed into the forest, ignoring your body as it screamed for you to stop, your chest heaving as you struggled for air.

Nightmare for family. Bodies of Ernesto and Beatriz Victoriano found in wreck.

You hated to think that Beatriz was dead…she’d been so kind to you…and to die now…

Son inherits family fortune.

When he was alive-you hoped he was alive-her beloved son, your friend was alive-the world suddenly flipped vertical and you yelped, falling with a heavy thud. Groaning you laid on the ground, the lush grass having misleadingly concealed the hard earth. Aware of the pain that shook your body you laid still. Swallowing the air like a fish out of water. Doubt and worry soon crawling over you…what if he didn’t remember you after all those years? It’d been so long…and it was late, his parents had just died as well…did you really want to turn up unannounced given the circumstances? Where had he been for so many years? Questions flooded your mind as you pushed yourself up, gritting your teeth as you rest against a tree, holding your side in pain. No…you would leave if he didn’t want you there. But you had to go-to make sure he was…there…slower this time though; you were sure he wouldn’t vanish in the time it took you to walk the rest of the way. You didn’t want to turn up with a broken arm after all. By the time you reached the familiar gates you were a bundle of nerves. Pressing against the gates they creaked and groaned, allowing you to pass in the courtyard. You hadn’t seen it in ages…the same ivy infested fountain, bare trees and the flowers wilting in their graves. Everything was so…dead…the unkempt garden and lack of light making you feel like you stepped into something from a nightmare. But there you were, stood before the doors once again, too timid to knock. It felt so different. 

Knowing that if you knocked it wouldn’t be Beatriz that answered…but him…it was unsettling.

Dusting yourself down you formed a fist and knocked, the sound echoing into the night, and waited…and waited…until any hope you felt had left your body. Picking yourself up you knocked again, desperate for some sign of life when you heard the door being unlocked-lightning coursing through your body as the door opened.

It was surreal.

You hadn’t known what you’d been expecting, but in your mind he was still a young boy. The man before you though, was not. Taller and leaner than he had been, his face heavily bandaged to only reveal his mouth and two, cold eyes. You must have looked stupid. Eyes wide like a deer in the headlights and your hands clasped to your chests as you refrained from touching his face.

“What…” you began, but trailed off at the cold stare he gave you. Of course, you thought…

“I-I’m sorry…you probably don’t remember me-”

“I know exactly who you are.” His coarse voice shook you to the very core. If he knew then why was he acting like you were sent to murder him?

“What I want to know; is why you’re here.” You struggled for words, managing to form a rough sentence.

“I…I heard that your parents had died and-”

“You’re sorry?” He interrupted, taking on an almost mocking tone, “Don’t waste your breath. It’s a blessing that they’re gone. Though I doubt you would come all this way to apologize over nothing.” You were speechless. You knew why it felt so unsettling now. It wasn’t knowing it was him that answered, but the fear that he wouldn’t be the boy you remembered. A fear that was becoming more and more true with every word he spoke.

“I came here to see you…I’ve gone believing you were dead for eight years I-I didn’t know what to think when I found out you weren’t so I came here straight away to see for myself…” obviously you’d been wrong though, the boy you used to know was dead. Instead, there was a stranger. 

“You thought I was dead?” He repeated, a hint of something you could consider amusement in his eye, “I was here the whole time and you thought I was dead?” The statement confused you. 

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t concern you.” It was like the world stopped. You could almost hear it inside you: that ‘snap’.

“What are you on about-of course it concerns me!” You exclaimed, embarrassed at the way you raised your voice, but…

“Of course it concerns me…you’re the only person I have left, the only person I can go to-without you, without Laura…” you trailed off, remembering her smile, “I had nothing. It concerns me because I’m your friend Ruben. And no matter what happens I’ll always be there for you. Even if you’re completely different to the person I used to know.” There was a knot in your throat as you stood your ground. He didn’t say anything. You didn’t blame him. Knowing you’d crossed the line you opened your mouth to apologize.

“Come inside.” Ruben said simply, gruff tone un-shifting as he stepped to the side. “You don’t want your father to hear you from over here do you?” It was a low joke, one that made you worry as you thought back to your dramatic exit from the house, but you went inside. Unsure how you felt about it...

~

Sat at the table you felt a sense of nostalgia, as if it should have been Beatriz opposite you, but it wasn’t. It was Ruben. Ever since you’d stepped inside the house he asked about you, what you were doing, were you still living with your father? It was…annoying, seeing as you had so many questions for him, but you bore with it.

“Why haven’t you run away?” He inquired, watching your every movement as if he was analyzing you.

“Where would I go?” You responded, the corners of your lips curling ever so slightly, “Run away to the city, get found by the police and sent back? They wouldn’t listen to me. They can’t even catch a murderer in Elk River…there’s nowhere I can go…” you sighed.

“I thought about killing myself but-I’m terrified of dying and honestly, I thought one day I might be rescued,” you chuckled, shaking your head at your own silly thoughts, “as if that will ever happen.” Ruben seemed to lose himself in thought, allowing you to seize the opportunity.

“What about you Ruben, where were you all this time?” His body noticeably tensed, and he hesitated before speaking. 

“I told you, I was here. Father was too ashamed to have a mutilated son like me so he kept me in the basement for eight, years. I wasn’t allowed to see Laura, no, he hated how close we are, and my poor crazy mother didn’t raise a finger to help me.” You didn’t know what to say, it was as if someone had flooded the room with water and you were choking…he’d been locked in the basement for eight years-Beatriz had said she could hear him and…you thought she was crazy. And Ernesto, his cruelty towards you was out of fear-the fear you’d find out the truth…you felt terrible. But Ruben… he referred to Laura like she was alive even though she was dead, you were certain she was, unless she was hidden away too. At least you could understand why he seemed so cold now…you could picture him alone and afraid in the darkness-nobody coming to rescue him. One question burnt in your mind but it seemed Ruben had other plans, standing with a sigh.

“I suggest it’s about time you left.” He said simply. You didn’t want to outstay your welcome so you didn’t ask. Not after you’d raised your voice at him already…leaving your seat you followed after him as you were shown the door. Passing him you stopped, turning to face him as you stood on the edge of the steps.

“Can you do me a favor please?” You asked politely as he held the door, cocking his head curiously.

“Please don’t vanish again, not without telling me first at least.” You could have sworn he almost smiled, a genuine human emotion crossing his eyes for a second as he turned inside.

“Go home (Y/N). You don’t want to get into trouble do you?” He replied, closing the door behind him. You must have been hallucinating you joked, standing in the cold, smiling at the door. You were already in trouble, but for now, you were just grateful he was okay…


	8. Chapter 8

The plan to sneak in had failed: your body rigid as he called your name from the kitchen. Timidly stepping in, you saw the paper on the table as he sat at the table, the sound of the kettle boiling the only thing to break the silence. He picked up the paper and read it through, then aloud.

“Car accident, two dead. Wealthy land owner and wife die in car crash? Nightmare for family? Bodies of Ernesto and Beatriz Victoriano found in wreck. And what’s this I see-son to inherit family fortune?” He read in mock shock, “How traumatising that must be for you-to hear that bitch and her husband died-weren’t they the parents of that tart and her pathetic little brother? The ones that died after the barn fire? A nightmare for the family…truly, truly shocking. But-if their children were dead, why is this so bad, oh wait…the son has inherited their fortune…but he was missing? How could this possibly be? You just had to go see for yourself didn’t you?” You were silent.   
“Didn’t you!” He yelled, making you jump as you instinctively braced yourself.

“Yes!” You blurted out, sobbing as you realized you hadn’t meant to admit it, but, why lie? You ditched your bag before you left, there was no way he didn’t know-he was already out of his seat, a yelp escaping your lips as he formed a fist around the collar of your dress and yanked you towards the sink. You were already in tears, apologizing like the pathetic coward you were…you knew something was going to happen, but as he reached for the kettle the tears stopped-fear overriding your system. Screaming you tried to get away as he took the wrist of your writing wrist, forcing it over the edge of the sink. Lashing out violently you sunk your teeth into his arm.

“Fucking bitch!” He cried, stamping on your foot and making you cry out, letting go of his arm.

“It’ll be your face if you try that again!” You cried, body giving up as you fell to your knees, hand hung in the sink as you waited, praying it would be over soon-a scream tearing through your throat as a white hot pain stung your hand like a thousand wasps all at once…it was unbearable…even as you lay in your room, hugging a pillow between your knees as you hand shook violently. Blisters bubbling like boiling water on the top of your flesh, raw and seeping with fluids you didn’t know the names of. A zombie, you lay on the floor, staring at your hand until your eyes wandered to the wall, climbing it to see his face. His sweet, innocent face…he was so different now…but he was safe, alive…and that was all you could ask for…his sister smiled beside him from her photo, her smile so gentle…you had to see him again…no matter what happened. You had to look after him, for Laura’s sake. For your own sake.

You never wanted to lose him, not again, when he was the only thing you had left.

~

He had been pacing around the same spot for so long. The same sight spinning around and around was sickening. But that wasn’t the problem, no, he’d gone wrong. Made a mistake, and he never made mistakes. She’d turned up unannounced. He realized she was a threat, she wanted questions he couldn’t give her answers to, so he let her in and they spoke. They spoke…and he knew he couldn’t just let her leave. Not when he desperately needed resources. People were just materials. But as she spoke he could see her, his sister-behind her as she spoke. Like she was telling him he couldn’t. And so he didn’t. He let her go. Back home to that pig she called a father. He had made a mistake. A miscalculation: but that was fine. She would come back. She had to. He knew she would. And they would speak again. And they would all be there. Like when they were young...and…then she would go. It annoyed him. But it wasn’t anything he couldn’t fix. He just had to wait. Lure her in. 

Yes.

He had to make sure she didn’t want to leave. That wasn’t hard was it; she had nothing where she was. But she had Laura and himself at the Estate...surely that was enough to make her want to stay?

~

You were grateful to work on the stall the following day, having given up painting anything new half way through the day, searing pain shooting down every nerve in your arm if you even so much as tried to move you hand, let alone grip a brush. You’d wrapped a piece of cloth around it in an attempt to cover it up, but it just irritated it more, puss seeping into the fabric. At least you had one thing to look forward too. Packing up early you left work two hours before you had intended, heading any which way but home. It wasn’t that you weren’t heading anywhere in particular though. You were going to the Estate. Leaving work early was your only option if you wanted to see him. You had a small stash of money you had been saving for some new shoes but you were going to add it onto what you earned today to make sure your father didn’t suspect. Soon arriving at the gates you let yourself into the courtyard, taking to the door and knocking as usual. You had to knock twice before it was opened, careful not to use your wounded hand. Welcomed in you shrugged off your bag, forgetting about your hand after being so cautious and catching it between your fingers-gasping and dropping your equipment as you pulled your hand towards your chest, sheltering it as it stung. Having seen this Ruben’s gaze fell upon your badly bandaged hand, a curious look in his eye.

“What happened?” He asked and you hesitated, a scowl crossing his face as he came to your side.

“Let me see.” He instructed with his hand outstretched. You lowered your hand slowly, unsure how you felt about letting him inspect your wound.

“It’s fine real-ow!” You whimpered, retracting it as he tried to remove the bandaging.

“It’s not fine. You haven’t even bandaged it properly. Judging by the mess you’ve made too, you haven’t cleaned it have you?” Your eyes said it all as you looked away, Ruben sighing. Turning to the stairs he beckoned you up.  
“Come on. Unless you want your hand to fall off I suggest you let me treat it.”

Treat had sounded nicer than it was. You sat on the edge of the bath as he poured water over the wound-your teeth grit as you fought the tears. In comparison to the alcohol he had used though, water was a refreshing change. You watched as he bandaged your hand, wrapping the white tape around your hand gently. You hadn’t noticed it but you were smiling…it hurt but he’d been so gentle with you through the whole process: maybe not on an emotional level though you thought, smile growing. He was still as cold as ice. Gaze wandering you watched the concentration on his face as he tended to your hand...and you were very aware of the way your face went red as some part of your brain told you he was quite handsome-your face scarlet when he met your eye.

“What is it?” He asked bluntly as you stumbled for words-quick ask him something, you thought desperately, remembering something.

“I was wondering…you were locked away for eight years-that’s a hell of a long time…” get to the point already, “what did you do all that time?” It was an odd question, one that you didn’t really want to ask considering you didn’t really want to remind him of his time in the basement but…you were curious. You’d intended to ask the previous night but never got round to it, so now seemed perfect. The response you got wasn’t exactly what you’d been expecting though. In fact, after hearing your question his eyes lit up in a way you’d never seen before, the corner of his lips curling into a smirk. It was as disturbing as it was exciting.

“I’ve been furthering my research into the human brain.” He said simply, your eyes wide. The human brain-research, you’d always known he was into his science, but research? On the human brain? You were astounded, and all that during his eight year imprisonment.

“Wow…” you breathed, taken aback, “what are you researching exactly then-if you don’t me asking that is.” He shook his head, amused by your enthusiasm.

“Not at all. I’m trying to find a way to connect people’s brains. Like a bee hive. You have your Queen at the center who controls the hive, then the workers, all of them contributing to the hive. I want to build a machine that can do this. Then I could build my own world, and take back everything that the fire took from me. My body-Laura. I would be able to live the life I was meant to have. Not some joke. You understand how it feels. To have everything taken from you. That’s what kept me going. The thought that I might be able to regain what I’ve lost.” You listened silently, his work amazing, his reasoning…all too familiar. But…you didn’t understand how he felt. You didn’t even come close. He’d lost his sister, and you’d only lost a friend. Everyone in his family was dead, even if he hated his father for what he did to him. He was alone. It was funny really, to the point you cracked up.

“You know,” you began with a smile, “all I managed to do in those eight years was paint a few pictures, and you’ve managed to conduct an entire research project by yourself…it’s amazing really…you wouldn’t mind if I saw your work at some point would you?” You asked, Ruben hesitating but agreeing.

“Later. I wanted to talk to you first.” 

And talk you did. You were wrong when you said he was still ice cold. He was…trying. Far more open than he had been before. You spoke about your childhood, the Church and Ruben’s research. It fascinated you truly. But you were aware of the time, saddened by the fact you’d have to leave sooner with every minute that went by, eventually bringing it up with Ruben.

“Listen I should probably get going before my father gets suspicious.” You soothed, Ruben nodding and leading you to the door where you collected your stuff, fresh bandaging in your pocket courtesy of him. You expected a simple goodbye but…

“Why can’t you stay here?” He asked as you left, stopping you in your tracks. The answer was so painfully simple though:

“Father would know I was here. He’d call the police, say you kidnapped me and that’d be the end of it.” You explained, a scowl crossing his face. You smiled, happy he’d even suggested that you stay but…it couldn’t happen.

“I’ll come round extra early tomorrow though. That way I can stay longer if you wanted.” You suggested, trying to cheer him p but he remained bitter. Sighing you did what you weren’t brave enough to do the night before, resting your good hand against his cheek, his body tensing as he met your eye.

“I’ll be fine. If anything happens to me I know you’ll patch me up.” You said simply, smiling at him. He turned his head, forcing you to take back your hand. And with that, you said goodbye, leaving him to his own devices as you head home.


	9. Chapter 9

Father had magically accepted your excuse but you weren’t that late home. You’d taken a detour. He’d forgiven you, but you weren’t to do it again. And you wouldn’t. Ruben’s words nagged at the back of your head that night as you played with the roll of bandaging he’d given you. How you would love to stay there…but…there was no way you could escape. Your father knew you had seen Ruben the first night. He would know you’d gone to see him if you faked your own death. Still, it was nice to dream. And dream you did. Everything seemed so much brighter and life seemed…easier since he returned. And you knew he wasn’t as cold as he seemed. Or maybe you couldn’t help but see the innocence in him-even if you knew deep down inside it was gone. You couldn’t wait to see him again though, a smitten joy enveloping you as you lay between the blankets.  
As for Ruben, he was restless. He let her go again. It didn’t make sense, but…he couldn’t trap her-lock her away in the basement like his father did to him. He refused to be like him. But she was coming back tomorrow. She said so herself-earlier than before. She risked getting into trouble if she didn’t bring back any money-that was trivial he thought dismissively, he could deal with that. He needed to deal with her father. He was the problem. All he had to do was get rid of him. But he couldn’t do it tomorrow, not with her coming round. Soon though. Soon they would be reunited again, and she would never leave. She was his, and he wasn’t going to let some pig take her from him. But he would have to do it soon. The longer he left it, the more danger she was in.

~

You’d been enthusiastic, you’d admit that, but you hated that Ruben had given you money in return for your company when you could have worked longer. Nevertheless, you took it after much insistence and the fear that you might lose an eye. You would have loved to work anyway but your hand prevented you from attempting to do anything. It was sad really. But…Ruben had made plans. Stepping into the library you couldn’t conceal you excitement, flying to the very first shelf. Row after row after row of books forcing you to crane your neck-it was amazing. Turning to see Ruben, who was a bit further ahead, you motioned to a book.

“May I?” You asked impatiently, Ruben nodding-the book in your hands before he’d stopped. Eyes skimming the contents of the page you opened it on, you quickly closed it, the thing under your arm as you inspected the spines of the other books. Stepping around the first bookshelf you froze, Ruben watching you amused as you staggered into the center of the room, spinning around-there were books everywhere, there was even a second floor, books reaching the ceiling. That was your first task, choosing books. You had sat down to read one, spending longer there than you intended, Ruben sat at a desk as he did something himself, soon tiring of the room and telling you, you could leave the books out and finish them another time. Gratefully accepting you followed him through the rest of the upstairs, a place Beatriz never let you go. He let you see his room, passing through into Laura’ and you were admittedly a bit jealous they had beds off the floor…you wanted to dive straight onto it face first but…furrowing your brow childishly you followed behind Ruben, concealing your childish wishes. Although…childish wishes were better than your more adult wishes, you thought-realizing how nauseatingly close you were as you were taken past the bathroom, which you were familiar with, then back through the rooms you already knew. Past…one particular door. 

“What’s in there?” You asked curiously, passing a door at the end of the corridor. Ruben stopped, looking back then continuing.

“Can’t you work it out?” He sighed, leading you back downstairs. You ran through all the rooms in your head, library, his room, her room, kitchen, dining room…

“Beatriz’s room!” You exclaimed, Ruben smirking.

“There you go.” 

Eventually you settled in the music room after a long day, an hour before you had to go. You sat on the floor, leant against the seat as he played the piano, the eerie tune echoing through the halls. It was familiar…Claire de Lune…you remembered hearing it before…it would have been nice to be able to paint to the music. Paint and sing along…rather hum, you doubted your singing voice was very good. Still, you hum away-consciously keeping it quiet out of fear of embarrassment and…you liked the sound of the piano too much, you didn’t want to tarnish it with your voice.

It took him awhile to notice it at first, but he could hear it…Laura’s voice in the distance, her beautiful voice in tune with the piano. It was almost hypnotic. He was aware of (Y/N) by his side. Her presence most welcoming-except, as he took his fingers off the keys, the humming stopped, her voice replacing it instead:

“Why did you stop?” she asked, (e/c) pools looking up at him softly and it crossed his mind-that maybe it hadn’t been Laura.

“Was that you?” he replied, ignoring her question as pink dusted her face, eyes going wide. 

“Uh-” she choked on her words, face flushing a deep red as she struggled to respond, “yes, I got carried away sorry…”

His heart had stopped, tongue tied as she averted her eyes, soon standing and cocking her head with an innocent, if not childish smile.

“Seeing as you’ve stopped now though can I see your research-I never got to see it yesterday.” He nod, standing and managing to ask her to follow, frustration building inside as he regained his composure. What was he doing? He couldn’t just show her, she’d…no, he reassured himself, it wouldn’t bother her. She understood him, she said she’d always be there no matter because she was his friend…and it bothered him. More than he cared to admit. 

As he led you back through the hallway you found it harder and harder to contain your excitement-excitement turning to fear as a sharp knock at the door stopped both of you in your tracks. You pictured your father, stood at the door-you turned to Ruben, seeing a dark shadow across his face as he scowled.

“On second thoughts you have to leave now. It seems I have unexpected company.” His tone was murderous, anger radiating off him. It seemed he knew who it was, but whoever it was Ruben clearly had issues with…it…actually scared you a little bit, the way he looked like he could kill. A predator ready to pounce. He strode to the door as you watched pensively, wondering who it might be. He opened the door, a voice immediately dishing out orders.

“Ruben, I need to speak to you abo-” the man froze, beady eyes resting on you as the stress on his face turned to concern, “who is this?” Ruben was quick to reply.

“She was just leaving. If you need to discuss this issue with me so badly then wait in the music room.” The man opened his mouth to object but Ruben cut him off.

“You can leave if this bothers you. I won’t take long.” He said dismissively, the man frowning as he let himself in, striding past Ruben, passing a glance at you as he head in the direction you’d came. You didn’t trust him, that man, something was off about him. He had a weasel-y face and beady eyes that seemed to dance around your face, as if he was trying to weed you out. Ruben called your name, holding your bag up and you soon went to his side, eyeing the doorway the man had gone cautiously.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s nothing but a pest.” He deadpanned, letting you pass as you took your bag. You said nothing of it, managing a weak smile.   
“Well I’ll let you go then, don’t want to keep your friend waiting.” He scoffed at this, casting you a sarcastic look. You smiled. 

“Goodnight Ruben.” You turned to leave when a hand grabbed your wrist, making you yelp as you turned, panic setting in. Ruben met your eyes, then looked down at your wrist and realized what he’d done, letting you go as he scowled.

“Sorry,” he said near instantly, obviously stuck for words as you rubbed your wrist, calming yourself.

“Don’t be...” you soothed but he shook his head.

“No-I shouldn’t have done that…” he growled, averting his eyes, anger on his face, “but…” he looked you directly in the eye, a stern look like an adult scolding a child.

“You can’t go home to that pig.” It was a bold statement, whatever was left of your smile fading.

“Ruben you know I can’t do that-”

“I don’t care. Who the hell does he think he is torturing you, thinking that he owns you when he doesn’t.” He spat, fingers grazing your cheek as you remained still, eyes wide. “Let me make something very clear, you’re mine to do with as I please, and no pig is going to take you away from me. Not when they’ve taken so much from me already. I won’t let them touch you, never again, even if it means I have to slaughter every last pig outside those gates.” It was too much to take in, confusion and concern mingling with infatuation and idle awe. You felt your face flush as his hand curled under your jaw, pulling you forward gently, but it didn’t concern you…he rest his lips against yours, kissing you, allowing himself to linger as he waited for your response. It didn’t take long. As he rest both his hands around your waist you wrapped your arms around his neck. What were you doing, you thought helplessly as you felt his tongue lap politely at your bottom lip. Granting him entry you pushed deeper into the kiss tilting your head without guidance…you were kissing him. That was right-you were kissing him. You could feel you face burn as your tongues tangled-the feel of his warmth through your clothes against the bitter chill of the night. It sent fireworks through your heart-it made you feel alive. You didn’t want it to end but…breaking away-you leant back in his arms, steady grasp holding you in place. You didn’t meet his eyes but you didn’t need to. You could feel the passion he burnt with, the dizzying sensation you were overcome with like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs in a single breath. 

“I have to go…” You breathed gently, managing to look him in the eye. An amalgam of emotion on his face, but what was most prevalent…

Was hate.

~

“It’s good to see you earnt a lot today,” your father said, pushing aside the pile you’d been counting and snatching your burnt hand, a whimper escaping your lips, “see what happens when you learn to behave?” he added, inspecting your hand.

“Although, maybe I should let you see that boy,” he scoffed, “he’s rich isn’t he? Maybe I should sell you off to him-your body I mean, that way you can still do all the housework and I get even more money. No art supplies then either, how do you feel about that? You’re a whore anyway so it’s not too much of a career shift, besides…” you’d stopped listening, mind wandering back to your parting with Ruben. What friendship you had shared having moved onto something more rather fast…you’d only just found out he was alive two days ago and now…he lingered on your tongue. It was actually quite funny, how your father’s words were a little true. You’d spent the day with Ruben, he’d essentially paid you for your company and had even kissed you at the door: didn’t that make you a whore? You knew it didn’t-you were just teasing yourself…still...it felt like you were still kids, to think of him as anything but a friend, a childhood crush-was surreal. He was no longer either of those things-in fact…he was the most precious thing you had. And you were his. 

Your father was a different case…Ruben’s words echoed through your head as you lay between the blankets. Pushing yourself up you crawled to the window, opening the latch and pushing them too. Resting against the windowsill you gazed at the starry sky above. Something you hadn’t done in a very, very, long time…the way he’d spoken made it sound like…he was going to kill your father. It seemed silly and you’d brushed it off seconds after the thought had arisen but-there was something there, when he spoke, when he looked at you. Some part of you knew he was serious: serious enough to do something. But what?

~

He found himself pacing again. That cockroach had been back-thought he had the right to come into his house and tell him what to do. Well, he’d show him he could do as he pleased. That he was in control, and he’d start with her. (Y/N). Tomorrow, he’d get rid of that pig whilst she was working, then take what he rightfully owned, and nobody, not even that doctor, would tell him what to do.


	10. Chapter 10

“Food.” You muttered to yourself, glancing into the kitchen on your way past. You had to buy food. But that could wait, for now you had another client up at the Church. Salvador what’s his face. The thought of even setting foot inside the Church disgusted you but taking longer than an hour, your father was the one that asked you to do it and he insisted you do it for free being the pious prick he was. It was in good faith, and his Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ wouldn’t have made a fellow Christian pay-something like that. It sickened you, knowing that even if you didn’t get the money you had to do this one for free? For God? He was really taking the mick, but it was your only client of the day and your father decided to be a “good father” and stay at home and cook you tea and lie to the face of this Salvador that had approached him. There wasn’t even food in the house! The bastard, you thought bitterly. Admittedly, you couldn’t help but be a tad amazed at the size and beauty of the Church, the endless rows of pews and pillars, light streaming in from giant stained glass windows, tainting the floor a vibrant host of colours all glistening like diamonds. You could almost picture Beatriz sat at the front. Salvador had been waiting for you, and you were formally introduced. He was important apparently. Rich apparently. Why weren’t you getting money for this? The hours dragged by and by completion of the portrait you could have sworn you’d been painting the devil.  
At least it was done.  
Thanked-you left the Church, having less supplies and less motivation than ever before, your burnt hand aching, but not as sore as it used to be. It was healing up quite nicely. And you’d been remembering to change the bandaging. When you’d collected enough food you head home, eager to see Ruben but knowing you had to unpack first. Struggling to get through the gate you finally made it to the front door, resting your elbow on the handle but…the door was already open, the contact you’d made pushing it gently to the side. Confused, you entered cautiously.

“I’m home!” You called, waiting for the snide comment but, there was silence. Maybe he’d gone out, you thought, entering the kitchen and-you froze, the smashed bottle of beer not bothering you in the slightest, rather, the way the golden liquid mingled with something red, something that definitely was not alcohol. Obviously he’d cut himself on the glass-placing the bags down hesitantly you felt your skin crawl. No, you thought, that wasn’t it. 

Surely not…was it? 

You could almost hear Ruben in your head, doing everything in your power to convince yourself otherwise-why though? It would be great if he’d…he’d…it wouldn’t just be great it would fantastic, the best thing that could happen to you…no, you didn’t want to get your hopes up. 

Strolling into the living room you poked your head through the door, nothing-upstairs, the bathroom-nothing, his bedroom-well you knocked and there was no reply, and…your room. Pushing open the door you couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary except…you hadn’t left your windows open. Upon closer inspection you saw the tiny shining item resting on the window sill and the paper. Stepping towards it you clutched your dress nervously. The shining object wasn’t so small up close, taking both the parchment it was resting on and the glass in your hand, like a ruby in the light as the crimson liquid bled onto your fingers. Turning your attention to the note your grip tightened on the paper, fear and excitement creating a potent mix in your blood, adrenaline rushing to your head. It was true then…letting out a giddy laugh you staggered back, turning heel and running, scooping up your bag and running.

You didn’t look back, not once, you just ran down that path, through the forest and to the only place you could call home. It wasn’t the Estate though. As he opened the door he smiled, the first time you’d seen him smile since you were younger and you smiled back. It was the biggest, goofiest grin you’d ever done in your whole life and you didn’t care, you flew into his arms-by his side. 

Home.

~

You’d never forget the first time you met them; a young girl with the brightest of smiles, beckoning you to come play and her brother, a sudden bashfulness challenging the confidence he carried himself with. It hadn’t been for long, but those precious minutes you spent with them meant the world to you before you were dragged back to the harsh world of reality. Little did you know those minutes would change to hours…and those hours would change your lives. Laura was gone and Ruben was all that remained of your turmoil past but…he made it better. And you would be there for him, no matter what happened because you’d promised yourself, his sister-you’d look after him.

Repay him for the kindness he had shown you, even when the world had made him bitter and angry.

You would be there for him.  
Because you loved him.

And you were his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Childhood! I haven't decided whether to add the extra bit for this chapter as a part of this section yet or as an individual entry, but keep your eyes open for the "First Night"! Just a little something for those of you who wanted to know exactly what happened the first night she spent with Ruben.
> 
> From here though-it's onto Adulthood! Hold onto your hats-it all goes downhill from here...


End file.
